Our breakfast was scheduled at 8:00 AM. It should be delivered at our room from the kitchen. I sensed trouble creeping up to me. There was a pain in my throat.  My colds always start in this way. This was what I did not want to have happened on this trip. If this is a cold, I hoped it not be accompanied by a fever.

I am now only twenty miles away from Heidi’s family home.  I could not imagine crashing right here and therefore too sick to see what I had come so far to see.

Getting up from bed, I took three tablets of Tylenol.  The bottle was almost empty.  In preparing for this trip I packed various types of medicine for stomach and a big bottle of Tylenol, which I came to realize, was nearly empty.  I am allergic to Aspirin.  My concern was whether any non-Aspirin was available in Ukraine, particularly in such a remote area. I had been told adequate medical technology was sorely lacking and one guide even suggested that should there be an emergency, one should go to a neighboring country for hospitalization.

It is certainly not a good idea to get wet in the rain.  The only thing I could do was to cancel this day’s original plan; and the plan was to go into Litin.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the sky became clear with blue by the time the breakfast was delivered to our room.

At 9 O’clock in the morning, we departed for Litin.　

APTEKA and DAI

"Apteka" is a pharmacy shop.  On this day, I learned that every town we visited in Ukraine had at least one or more APTEKA.  We left the hotel to find the pharmacy.  At the far end of Vinnitsa, we finally found one.  When I entered the store, the pharmacist stood behind a glass counter filled with many medicines. As I began to tell her my ailments, I found she was a well-trained physician.  She, of course, did not know the brand name Tylenol, and yet by explaining that I was looking for NON-ASPIRIN tablets, she understood what I needed.  We were very impressed with the facility and the quality of the APTEKA – this gave us relief in that it was likely we would need a pharmacy again as we continued traveling the country.  As far as the pharmacy, Ukraine was as good as any other Western European nation.

Now we were able to concentrate on our trip today since everything seemed to be going well, but we immediately encountered some trouble. We encountered a bit of intensity when the DAI stopped us as we were leaving the city limits.

It was, however, less troublesome that we imagined – the DAI only checked Vlad’s passport and once checked we passed through the checkpoint safely.  As we were residents of US who were not accustomed being investigated by machinegun-carrying enforcement personnel, I could not help but think about what may await us in the future.

It was a day that had had an unexpected beginning which caused me to remain cautious about what could happen next.                  

"No, not at this time!"

According to the map, the distance between Vinnitsa and Litin is 32Kilometers. There was a time when I would run the San Francisco Marathon every year and did so for 20 year. Accordingly, I can sense exactly the distance represented by 32 Kilometers.  A marathon is 41.91Kilometers.  It may sound a little cavalier but the distance is not that far away. In other words, I could run the distance between Vinnitsa and Litin and using my personal best, it would take me 2hours.

Those names listed in the map that I had memorized all existed, why wouldn’t they exist - it would not make sense otherwise. But, it was still so exciting to me to find the towns on the map showing up exactly in their proper order as we drive down the road.  I had only learned the names using the map and not by actually seeing the towns. I was simply amazed with the fact that the map depicted the truth.

My mind worked as if I were so afraid to miss anything; it was absolutely essential that my eyes register everything with out fail. Eyes of mind hungered for all that appeared in view.  Any sight I would not remember disturbed me for that would be my failing forever.

I kept my camcorder camera running. The fields on both sides of the state highway appeared to be filled with sugar beets, the major crop of Podolia; a key ingredient in a familiar dish we usually associate with our Thanksgiving banquet.

Beet salad, in fact, is one of Heidi’s favorite dishes.  All of a sudden, I heard Heidi request that we stop the car so she could touch the sugar beets – the vegetable, she said, of her family.  I panicked – we were just seconds away from Litin – the place I had dreamed of seeing for so long.

Even many weeks after this episode, Heidi was still laughing at my reaction to her request - obviously I acted so strangely then.

‘You didn’t sound like yourself, Norimi’, Heidi kept saying. ‘You yelled at me saying, “No!”’

In my family I am always the subordinate one.  I have never told her “No.”, as far back as my memories serves me.  If I did, it would have been the first and last incident in our life.  I must confess, however, I had no recollection of this incident of telling her “No”.  “Did I really say that?” I responded whenever she brought up the conversation.

I would have found out she was right upon our return to the US as I played the camcorder video on out TV monitor. Our conversations were clearly recorded in the video and I heard my own voice yelling frantically,

“No, Heidi, not at this time yet!”

Shame on me.  I will not be allowed to forget this incident my entire life!  

LITIN DISCOVERED

I saw a sing read “Sarovoe”, I sensed it would be Litin coming up next. I was wrong at this time for there was one little village that was not listed in my map. But it was just the matter of time, and there, I saw the town sign read “Litin.”

On the right hand side of the state highway, there were two signs, one built by the city welcoming the motorists and another, which was just a green sign, provided by the state.

There lay Litin indeed.  The town of my fantasy proved to be a real town in which Heidi’s great grandparents resided until they immigrated to the US with their children. Navigating with only one official record where “Litin” was listed in the ship manifest found at the Ellis Island records, three years later we are standing on that very land.  Heidi appeared to be quite fascinated, too.

I thought our first mission was to understand the town and gain our bearings and sense of direction including marking the locations of major buildings.  Since our plan was to commute into Litin each day this week, we did not need to begin our detailed research today. It was difficult but I disciplined myself not to start interviewing people and taking pictures; I asked Vlad to just drive around the major streets until we had a idea of where everything was.

We drove along the state highway into the town.  The street was named “Lenin” which appeared to be the main street.  It made sense that such a major road ran through the center of town. We passed a large public park where some official looking tall and big concrete buildings stood, upon which flew the nation’s flag.  In the park, there were some heroic statues and portraits displayed on a large billboard type sign.  Those buildings appeared to be official buildings possibly a city hall and or a memorial hall.  And still standing was a statue of a man familiar even to us,  “Lenin” himself.

Though we entered at the eastern entrance, the road soon started to turn toward the right.  There were some narrow streets leading west and yet they all were minor streets.  I sensed the road would lead us toward the northwest exit of Litin.

We also passed a crowded market where various merchants displayed their merchandise.  For ten minutes, we cruised for 8 kilometers then parked the car at the end of the town.  We saw the endless state highway reaching in front of us.  This road should be bound to Lechetev.  On the corner of the small road, which ran northeast to southwest, we got out of the car.  In front of me stood a peculiar looking bus stop decorated with tiles in a mosaic pattern.

I should have returned to the eastern entrance once more to confirm the view we saw, however, I was unable to control my curiosity any longer. I began taking photographs and videos as well as engage in conversation with the local people.  What surprised me was that the peoples we tried to speak with were not as friendly as others had been in previous towns.  They appeared hesitant to respond to any of our questions.

At least, however, we were able to locate the Jewish cemetery from our queries. But the locals were not enthusiastic talking with us for whatever reason; they were either too busy or were not familiar with foreigners.

Vlad suggested regrouping to amend our plan. I became rather pessimistic by our encounters with the unfriendly Litiners. We all went back to the car and drove back to the downtown areas. We passed the market and among the stores we found a post office. I had an idea so I suggested to Vlad that he park the car behind the post office. We walked inside the post office.

As I guessed, there were some souvenirs displayed inside.  We purchased some post cards, envelops, postage stamps and stationery and proceeded to ask the storekeeper some questions.  I had understood that there was an old section and a newly developed section. Where was the old section in the town? Was there an old residential district for Jewish people? And was there an old big church or cathedral? And etc, etc… we were asking those questions, just customers who had just bought some merchandise. Surely we deserved some attention?  I was right.  Now, we were getting somewhere.

 There was a reason why we asked the question about a cathedral. I remembered a story told by one of the members of the Pervin family that the Litin Pervin group lived near a large church, that is, a church not a temple.  Consequently, I interpreted this to mean a Russian Orthodox cathedral.  I thought the large cathedral might lead us to the location of the Pervin house.

As I expected, the question brought a positive answer.  We were told a huge cathedral once existed but had been demolished and yet now the town was in the process of rebuilding it on the old site. Great; we needed to know where is it then? The answer was in the main park - the one we had passed by earlier.  We went back to the car and drove to the park, but it was too big to find the so-called construction sight. We were lost.

Vlad and I saw three men who were talking in the middle of an intersection.  We slowed down and stopped the car near them and spoke from the window.  Vlad asked if they know the location of the construction site for the old cathedral.  I thought it was a simple question.  And yet we did not hear a simple answer.

We were now subjected to their inquiries. The conversation became intense. Our middle-aged interrogator with sharp eye contact was asking why we wanted to know this. Now he was asking us a simple question, “What for?”

At this point, I sensed they were very suspicious of us for some reason.  Speaking in English, I told Vlad to tell them directly that we came all the way from America to search for the old house of our family who had once lived near the cathedral.

It was to our advantage that we came from the United States. The suspicious look of our inquisitor suddenly relaxed and he began to direct us to the cathedral site by his outstretched hand. His face again showed his distrust when I made a big mistake. I already stated in the previous pages that we brought some cartons of “Camel” cigarettes to use as souvenirs. In my stupidity, I offered a couple of “Camel” packets as an offering of gratitude by simply handing them to the gentleman from the car window.  It was too late by the time I noticed Vlad signaling me “Don’t.”

I saw the man’s face stiffened. He asked, “What are they?”  I explained they were American cigarettes. He pursued his questioning, “Why should I accept the cigarettes?” It was then that I realized that I had made a mistake. I had offended him with the offering. By pulling my ‘gift’ back through the window while apologizing to the man, we quickly drove away from the scene.

While living in the US for the past 40 years, I became quite accustomed to distributing presents. I had forgotten that such an action might offend people under certain circumstances.  Vlad lectured me afterwards explaining how the people in Podolia were very proud people; it would be shameful if they were to take a gift without any reason.

It was not the last time we would see this man.   After passing two or three blocks, we arrived at a spot, which was only a 5-minute walk from where we were. We were lost again and found no pathway leading to the city square where the statue of Lenin stood.  After driving a few times on the same road, we saw the same man; he held his arms above his shoulders gesturing for us to come his direction. Driving towards him, we saw the construction site of the cathedral – no wonder we could not find it – just the foundation had been built at this stage.  What surprised us most was that the man to whom I had earlier offered the cigarettes was actually the state inspector for the cathedral’s reconstruction.

His name was Sasha. I was so embarrassed to see him again – I wanted to dig myself into a hole and hide.  (There was, in fact, a big hole in front of me due to the lack of maintenance of the road).  One more big surprise – Sasha was now a different person - he was kind, gentle and even friendly.

As if we were his long time friends, he introduced us to the engineers – a crew of around 5. He even summoned some if the neighbors who lived near asking them if they knew of any early history of the town.

A few of them stated that there once stood a pair of large dwellings adjacent to each other only ten meters away from the construction site.

The episode about the residents of Pervins was told as follows:

Leib and Schandel had fourteen children.  The brother of Leib, Israel and his wife had six children. Both families of Leib and Israel lived in the adjacent houses with more than ten servants between them.  There was a big cathedral standing near by their home.

I realized my voice was quivering as I spoke. We were told that the houses were still standing, albeit vacant, for quite a while until the 1960s when the city hall was built next to them on the same site. They said that we might be able to see photographs if we were to find the early ones of the renovated city hall.

They suggested we visit the city’s museum but it was Saturday, and as it was in the afternoon, the museum was closed. We stood in the open space where once was the Pervin resident and fantasized the day of one hundred years past within the wild weeds overtaking the space.  It appeared to be a large tract of land.  We were anxious for Monday to arrive to begin our search of the old photos.

The map on the left shows the birds eye view of Litin. Click on the names of each building to view them more closely.

 A Family Myth About Sugar Beets Factory 

There is a tale told among the Pervin family for a number of generations.  One of those tales is about how a member of the Pervin family obtained first-class Russian citizenship despite the fact that Jews were considered second-class citizens.  Most importantly, the family owned a large parcel of land, thought to be quite unusual for Jews of this time. This was made possible by the first generation of Leib Nicholiavitsi, who served with the military for a life-long assignment.  It was Leib Nikoliavitshi who earned the rights to first-class citizenship and accordingly was awarded all the rights of this citizenship by the Tsar including the ownership of land.  However, none of his family had any documentation of the exact location of the property. Israel Samuil, the younger brother to Leib Yahuda remembered the name of the factory called “Loznansk Sackerine” and yet no one could explain if this represented an individual or a location.  

My guess was that the land existed somewhere between Bagrinovtsy, the birthplace of the Pervins and Litin, a town recorded as the last residence of the family. An episode as told by Samuil’s family follows:

On the sunset of every Sabbath, the owner of the factory, the oldest Pervin son, Leib and the factory manager, Samuil, the second son were accustomed to returning home from the factory on foot.  Their families, half way with a picnic of food and tea, met the brothers. According to the map, the distance between Bagrinovtsy and Litin is less than 16 K, that means the adults can walk the distance in a couple of hours.  In the time before the revolution, one can imagine how the workday began as early as four O’clock in the morning continued to seven O’clock in the evening.  If their traveling time lasted less than one hour, they would have most likely commuted daily – but instead they commuted weekly.

I requested Vlad to ask Litiners the whereabouts to any sugar beet factories operated around the town of Bagrinovtsy. Initially, no one could remember any such factories. I knew there were at least 50 factories listed at the state registration office in Vinnitsa. It was puzzling to think about no factories while the horizon was full of sugar beet fields on both sides of the state highway.             

After a time, a bunch of Litiners recollected a sugar beets factory operating at the south section of Litin.  Some of them remembered that the factory was constructed sometime around the 1920’s. The factory I was looking for would have been operating for two generations before than Leib in 1920. 1920 appeared to be too recent of a factory but we decided to visit the factory none-the-less.

I was surprised and pleased that Sasha offered to take us to the factory site. Sasha sat in the car next to Vlad while Heidi and I sat behind him.  He no longer acted like a stranger and behaved as though he had been long acquainted with us.  It may take a while but once trust is developed, friendships are quickly made. I felt by accident, we traveled back in time to an ancient world where strangers would kindly help each other.

On the way to this unknown sugar beets factory, Vlad and Sasha were enjoying a discussion on the upcoming presidential election in October.  My impression about the people around here reminded me of the people in Texas, who maintained strong sense of pride and self respect about themselves and who always were ready to challenge the central administrative power. Listening to Sasha, I perceived him to be a political conservative. 

A Family Myth 

About Sugar beets Factory

My guess was that the land existed somewhere between Bagrinovtsy, the birthplace of the Pervins and Litin, a town recorded as the last residence of the family. An episode as told by Samuil’s family follows:

On the sunset of every Sabbath, the owner of the factory, the oldest Pervin son, Leib and the factory manager, Samuil, the second son were accustomed to returning home from the factory on foot.  Their families, half way with a picnic of food and tea, met the brothers. According to the map, the distance between Bagrinovtsy and Litin is less than 16 K, that means the adults can walk the distance in a couple of hours.  In the time before the revolution, one can imagine how the workday began as early as four O’clock in the morning continued to seven O’clock in the evening.  If their traveling time lasted less than one hour, they would have most likely commuted daily – but instead they commuted weekly.

I requested Vlad to ask Litiners the whereabouts to any sugar beet factories operated around the town of Bagrinovtsy. Initially, no one could remember any such factories. I knew there were at least 50 factories listed at the state registration office in Vinnitsa. It was puzzling to think about no factories while the horizon was full of sugar beet fields on both sides of the state highway.             

After a time, a bunch of Litiners recollected a sugar beets factory operating at the south section of Litin.  Some of them remembered that the factory was constructed sometime around the 1920’s. The factory I was looking for would have been operating for two generations before than Leib in 1920. 1920 appeared to be too recent of a factory but we decided to visit the factory none-the-less.

I was surprised and pleased that Sasha offered to take us to the factory site. Sasha sat in the car next to Vlad while Heidi and I sat behind him.  He no longer acted like a stranger and behaved as though he had been long acquainted with us.  It may take a while but once trust is developed, friendships are quickly made. I felt by accident, we traveled back in time to an ancient world where strangers would kindly help each other.

On the way to this unknown sugar beets factory, Vlad and Sasha were enjoying a discussion on the upcoming presidential election in October.  My impression about the people around here reminded me of the people in Texas, who maintained strong sense of pride and self respect about themselves and who always were ready to challenge the central administrative power. Listening to Sasha, I perceived him to be a political conservative. 

While I was listing to the Ukrainians’ political discussion, I could not help wondering if we had traveled too far south.  We should have traveled for thirty minutes and yet we still had not arrived at the destination. I interrupted the conversation between Vlad and Sasha and asked if we should have already arrived at our destination.  I heard Sasha saying to Vlad that it was farther south.  At this point I interrupted again and asked Sasha if he had heard of “Loznansk”. While I was listening to Vlad translating my question into Russian, I noticed Sasha’s immediate reaction when he heard the word.

“Loznansk?” repeated Sasha.  “You mean Zaluzhnoe”   

I knew the name of Zaluzhnoe from the map I had studied about the neighboring villages of Litin. The village sat right between Bagrinovitsy and Litin.  I was lucky to have practically memorized all the small towns around this area.

“Is Loznansk called Zaluzhnoe at this time?” asked Vlad to Sasha.

Sasha replied  “Yes” to Vlad.

Now, Sasha appeared to have understood everything and told us that we had passed Zaluzhnoe long time ago and should go back to the village at once. The part of my misunderstanding was the name of “Zaluzhnoe’ which was not a personal name as I had assumed but instead was a geographic location.

This is what we found out later. Many of the local villages changed their name after the revolution.  Zaluzhnoe was one of them. There was a bus stop decorated with a wall of mosaic arts with the name “Zaluzhnoe” written in the mosaic.  It appeared to be an entry road from the state highway to the village; it looked significantly old but meticulously well paved with square bricks, which gave the appearance of marbles. The road veering towards the village looked as wide as the state road and reminded me of the well-designed ancient Roman roads built for carriages and wagons.  The avenue was lined with cherry trees. When I saw this picture in front of me, I knew we had arrived at the right place.  I had an impression, which I cannot fully explain but I know I was here before - I had once pictured this scene in my mind before.  We had arrived at the right village.  The car went into the paved road for one kilometer. I imagined that I was on the same road on which the Pervin family had walked together every Sabbath eve with the sun setting behind them into the horizon.  I saw, in my mind, this scene many times.

The village with 200 inhabitants set upon a hill in the middle of meadow. I imagined a childhood image of the legendary Scotland village called “Brigadoon”; a utopian world hidden behind the fog.

In the fresh air, I heard screams of ducks and chickens.  Heidi murmured that she sensed the fragrance of wild flowers and the smell of farmland where she was raised, Toledo, Ohio.

Sasha walked out of car and summoned about ten villagers.  We had caught the attention of the entire village already. Sasha asked if anyone knew anything about a sugar beet factory operating in this village as he stood with his arm perched on a gate belonging to one of the villagers. They responded by saying they never heard of the sugar beets factory.

With this reply Heidi and I looked at each other with a feeling of the ground at our feet suddenly cracking open in disappointment. However, one of the villagers among the crowd stated loudly:

“Wait!” she yelled. “I remember there was one distillery which operated here once upon a time, though it was destroyed!”

“Distillery”? I pondered.  I had no idea what the word meant.

 “That is right, a distillery. It was burned and destroyed to the ground when a troop of Bolsheviks came by during the October Revolution!”        

I saw Vlad carefully listening to the woman and he directed questions to her so quickly that I could not understand the contents of the questions. The October Revolution took place in 1917.  I do not know why a distillery would offend the revolutionaries; perhaps the factory was producing something the revolutionaries do not approved of.  As far as I understood, the Pervins were sugar merchants.  Sugar could not cause any problems for the revolutionaries, I kept asking my self.  What did a distillery have to do with sugar?.

Vlad, on the other hand, appeared to have realized something.

“Mr. Yamaguchi!” yelled Vlad.

He always addressed me as Mr. Yamaguchi whenever he was excited. He started to explain the process of making alcohol using a distillery.  He told me that the distillery is the factory that produces alcohol. Since I have been no experience with liquor products - since a pickled cucumber could intoxicate me - I had no idea about the liquor making process using sugar beets. I started to understand the whole picture; that is, this was a factory that could produce gin, whisky or vodka. 

I looked at Heidi and saw her big smile. Breaking her silence, she started to giggle and finally with a loud laugh. For a while she could not stop laughing as if she had caught a funny line of a stand-up comedian.  I was appalled.  I had no idea what was happening to her mind and lost how to inquire as to why she was laughing.  She told me that we came to find the right place.  She kept repeating the statement without telling me why this is the right place.

“Norimi, don’t you see? My ancestors were bootleggers!”

“Bootlegger?” as I still did not understand what Heidi was talking about. Confused as I was, I once again drew a map in my mind of a triangle with the towns of Bagrinovitsy, Zaluzhnoe and Litin at each of the three points.  They formed an equilateral triangle, where each town was 10 km from the other.  I t would take someone two hours to walk to any of the towns. That fits the distance in the stories told among the Pervin family.   

  A memorable time in the US was the period of Prohibition.  It lasted from 1919 to 1933, 14 years duration. During this time, the distributing and drinking of alcohol products were prohibited. Every child knows the story in connection to an outlaw named Al Capone.

I, myself, recalled an episode told among the members of Samuil Porvin’s family that related to the story of Shieva, Samuil’s wife, who was fatally victimized by a mob during the pogroms in the 1920s. According to the story, Betty, the oldest of the Samuil’s five children operated a business selling liquors in order to take care of the household. This was the only means by which she could earn enough money to exit Ukraine and travel to the United States where their father was waiting.  According to the story, Betty was merely 14 years of age.  My question had always been, “how would a 14 year old know how to process liquors and run a business doing so”? Now I understand; this was her family’s profession.

There was one more rumor I needed to take into consideration.  A mysterious Pervin family member lived in Florida.  They say David R. Porvin lived in Miami, Florida, was a casino hotel owner and was allegedly a member of Al Capone’s group. I remembered I was confused about how a Jewish immigrant had become involved with an underground organization.  It is now clear to me that if someone was a distiller, he could easily gain entry into an illegal but closed organization.  Before this trip, I did in fact confirm with Heidi’s father of David Porvin’s existence. He remembered David as a rich gang member, somewhat mysterious, who owned a casino and was always sending expensive gifts to the Pervin family.

Now that I have gathered these episodes, I can make some sense of the family’s profession as a distiller. Based on the 1930 US Census, Samuil Porvin is listed as a sales person. There is also the general belief that that his second wife was trading in alcohol.

I realized I need to be sensitive about this finding.  Should I disclose the information we have found here in Zaluzhnoe in as much as most of the current Pervin family believes the family profession was that of processors of sugar beets?

Though Heidi referred to her ancestors as bootleggers, not all distilleries are illegal.  The distillery business is a legal one. I sensed something about Heidi who has been skeptical about her family’s origins and she is somewhat judgmental of them and I do not understand the reason.  She always perceived a shadowy side to her family.  She explained to me once that she believed there were skeletons hidden in the family closet. Her grandfather, Max, for example, came to US supposedly when he was 14 years of age.  Some have said that he was involved in a scandal and may have harmed someone in the process; therefore needing to hide his identity. We cannot locate any records indicating when and how he entered the States.  Only a marriage certificate shows that his “birthplace” as Detroit. Now we know that Max was not born in Detroit.                         

So, if the family operated a legal distillery, then why would they tell their children they operated a “Sugar Beets Factory”? There is no shame in the occupation as a distiller.

I saw a contradiction as I heard the story of how this factory burned down at the hands of the Bolsheviks during the October revolution in 1917.  Mr. And Mrs. Yahuda Leib Pervin immigrated to Toledo, Ohio in 1923; 5 years after the revolution. I interpreted the information as such: Heidi’s great-grand parents left their birth place after they sold the property and with the money they earned from the sale, they managed to buy passage to the US for all members of the family. If the factory had been destroyed, how could they sell the factory? I needed to learn more detail about the factory.  I asked Sasha to find the eldest in the village.

The following is from the story as told by Illya, the eldest of the villagers who gathered to explain about the distillery.

 A Story Told by Illya

“People call me Illya and I am the oldest in this village.  Da. My father told me this story, da! It happened before I was born, da. There once built and operated a big Alcohol factory right behind that house at the entrance of this village, da.  Who owned that factory? Da, I know who.  It was the Pan, the Polish noble landlord, da! Pan, Paliakoff! Da, that was his name. Niet, he never was the Jewish man! It was when the October revolution took place, da, when the army of Bolsheviks over whelmed the village and attacked the factory, put fire on the factory, destroyed that factory down to the ground, da. My father told me that to make money by making alcohol was an act of the bourgeoisie, a criminal act, da. The basin down the road once was a pond, da. A large pond they said, da.  A little sized lake, a large pond, da. It was full of flowing water.  But when the vat at the factory exploded, da, all of the spirits spilled into the pond, da, and what happened was that all the villagers ran to grab their buckets and jumped into the pond to gather the spirits, da, but the Bolsheviks lit the spirits on the pond, da, and the whole pond burned like an inferno, da. Many, many people were in the pond when the flames began, da. It was my father who said the view was of hell, people were burning in the fire, da. This is the spot where the factory once was stood, da. If you dig deep into this land they say you will find many, many treasures.  Da, there is a legend that a golden candlestick is hidden somewhere underground.  Niet, I have never attempted to dig out the treasures, da.”

The village elder, Illya was a genuine and adorable man who tried to explain everything he knew.  He used “Da (yes,) and Niet (no,)” repeatedly as he talked. The legend about the golden candlestick perhaps is a golden Menorah.  It was useful to learn about Pan Paliakoff, the Polish landlord, who owned the factory.  Illya explained that Pan Paliakoff disappeared from the village after the factory fire. He said the Pan ran away to his homeland, Poland. This means that Leib and Israel Pervin were no longer the owners of the factory at the time of the October revolution.  I pondered the ownership question and the fact that Israel, the younger brother to Leib was recorded to have entered the US as early as 1914.

It is said that Israel heard the news of the beginning of World War I when he was at sea near the International Date Line – somewhere in the Pacific.  At this point, the owner of the Zaluzhnoe factory was not the Pervins but instead Pan Paliakoff. Israel managed the factory for Leib, and as he was traveling to the US then it is quite likely that both Leib and Israel were in the process of immigrating to the US.

I wondered how, for nine years, Leib made a living to support his children without the income from the factory. I was puzzled by something else. We have a document that shows that the five children of Israel arrived in Detroit in 1921.

According to Rochell Tobisman, the youngest daughter to Beverly Porvin, her grandmother, Shieva (Israel’s wife) was killed during the pogroms in Litin on March 19, 1919. Rochell explained to me why she believed that was the day of Shieva’s death. Rochell remembered her mother’s birthday as March 19, but did not know the year.  Her mother, Beverly, knew March 19 was not her birthday. The date instead was the date her mother was killed and in order to always remember the date, her brothers and sisters established the day as Beverly’s birthday. In this way, the siblings would always remember to cerebrate the anniversary of the death of their mother. About 2 years ago, Rochell discovered that the date of March 19, 1919 was the date of a severe pogrom in Litin. 

There is a possibility that all the members of the Pervin/Porvin family still resided in Bagrinovitsy while commuting to the factory at Zaluzhnoe – not yet in Litin at this time.  My next action is to visit Bagrinovitsy, their birthplace.

We bid farewell to the Zaluzhinoe villagers, promising we would come back within a day or so. We returned to the car.  We were so pleased that Sasha offered to escort us to Bagrinovitsy.  The time was 4 O’clock in the afternoon.

We were told there was a short cut by walking to Bagrinovitsy.  However, it did not even take 20 minutes by car. We stopped at the eastern entrance to observe the village sign of “Bagrinovitsy.” I could hear my heart thumping loud but tried to control myself so as to not get too excited; first I wanted to take a swift drive through the village to gain a sense of direction.  We were exhausted from the constant excitement after excitement since this morning. It would cause us of mental indigestion if we were to push too hard. I, therefore, offered that we simply drive through the village without interviewing anyone or taking any pictures. 

Bagrinovitsy was a quiet village setting in the green forest like an oasis in the desert.  Sasha informed us that there were about two thousand currently living in Bagrinovitsy. I was very surprised that there was almost the same number of Jews living in 1920, which means little had changed as far as the total population. It was certain however - there were no Jews living here now. We then encountered with a large herd of cattle.   

We were told there was a short cut by walking to Bagrinovitsy.  However, it did not even take 20 minutes by car. We stopped at the eastern entrance to observe the village sign of “Bagrinovitsy.” I could hear my heart thumping loud but tried to control myself so as to not get too excited; first I wanted to take a swift drive through the village to gain a sense of direction.  We were exhausted from the constant excitement after excitement since this morning. It would cause us of mental indigestion if we were to push too hard. I, therefore, offered that we simply drive through the village without interviewing anyone or taking any pictures.

 Bagrinovitsy was a quiet village setting in the green forest like an oasis in the desert.  Sasha informed us that there were about two thousand currently living in Bagrinovitsy. I was very surprised that there was almost the same number of Jews living in 1920, which means little had changed as far as the total population. It was certain however - there were no Jews living here now. We then encountered with a large herd of cattle.

Sasha had been with us for nearly the entire day.  Now we needed to take him back to Litin.  It was time to end our day. We would visit Bagrinovitsy again tomorrow.  We left the village reluctantly.